Twisted Tales (Switching Side 2)
by demonpoxsurvivor
Summary: Book two of Switching Sides. Taking place in the City of Ashes book, continues the adventure of Jace, the mundane, and Clary the shadowhunter. Jace had only just found his mother and now he has to find a way to save her.
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys! I'm back for book two and I hope you are as excited as I am. Hope you enjoy it and happy New Years. I have just finished reading the infernal devices and it was a very good book. Definitely a suggestion. I still favor the Mortal Instruments but thats just my opinion. I have yet to come up with a title for this second book so if in the comments below you could put out a preference for a title that would be fabulous. Thanks! I've decided to start all of them the same way I started the first one. Just letting you know This is really late... sorry. All rights to this book remains with Cassandra Clair.

"Are you still mad?"  
Alec leaned up against the wall of the entryway, glared across the small space at Clary. "I'm not mad."  
"Oh yes you are." Clary gestured accusingly at her step brother, then yelped as pain shot up her arm. Every part of her arm hurt from the thumping she'd taken that afternoon when she'd dropped three floors through rotted wood onto a pile of scrap metal. Even her fingers were bruised. Alec, who'd only recently put away the crutches he'd had to use after his fight with Abandon, didn't look any better than Clary felt. His clothes were covered in mud and his hair hung down in lank, sweaty strips. There was a long cut down the side of his cheek.  
"I am not." Alec said through his teeth. "Just because you said dragon demons were extinct-"  
"I said mostly extinct."  
Alec jabbed a finger towards her. "Mostly extinct," he said, his voice trembling with rage, "IS NOT EXTINCT ENOUGH!"  
"I see," said Clary. "I'll just have to change the entry in the demonology textbook from 'almost extinct' to 'not extinct enough for Alec. Her prefers really really extinct'. Will that make you happy?"

"Guys." Said Isabelle, who'd been examining her face in the close by mirror. "Don't fight." She turned away from the glass with a sunny smile. "All right, so it was a little more action than we were expecting, but I thought it was fun."  
Alec looked at her and shook his head. "How do you manage to never get mud on you?"  
Isabelle shrugged. "I'm pure at heart. It repels dirt."  
Clary snorted so loudly that she turned on her with a frown. She wiggled her mud-caked fingers at her. Her nails were black crescents.  
Isabelle was about to reply when Alec yanked open the door. Clary followed him in, already looking forward to taking off her armor and weapons and stepping into a hot shower. She'd convinced her step siblings to come hunting with her despite the fact that neither of them was entirely comfortable going out on their own now that Hodge wasn't there giving them instructions, But Clary had wanted the oblivion of fighting, the harsh diversion of killing, and the distraction of injuries. And knowing she wanted it, they'd gone along with it, crawling through filthy deserted subway tunnels until they found the Dragonidae demon and killed it. The three of them working together in perfect unison, the way they always had. Like family.  
She unzipped her jacket and slung it over one of the pegs hanging on the wall. Alec was sitting on the low wooden bench next to her, kicking off his muck-covered boots. He was humming tunelessly under his breath, letting Clary know he wasn't that annoyed. Isabelle was pulling pins out of her long dark hair, allowing it to shower down around her. "Now i'm hungry." She said. "I wish Mom were here to cook." "Better that she isn't," said Clary, unbuckling her weapons belt. "She's be shrieking about the rugs."  
"You're right about that." Said a cool voice, and Clary swung around, her hands still at her belt, and saw Maryse Lightwood, her arms folded, standing in the doorway. She wore a stiff black traveling suit and her hair, black as Isabelle's, was drawn back into a thick rope that hung halfway down her back. Her eyes glacial blue, swept over the three of them like a tracking search light.  
"Mom!" Isabelle, recovering her composure, ran over to her mother for a hug. Alec got to his feet and joined them, trying to hide the fact that he was still limping.  
Clary stood where she was. There had been something in Maryse's eyes as her gaze had passed over her that froze Clary in place. Surely it wasn't that bad? They joked about her obsession with rugs all the time-"  
"Where's Dad?" Isabelle asked, stepping away from her mother. "And Max?"  
There was an almost imperceptible pause. Then Maryse said, "Max is in his room. And your father is still in Alicant. There was some business that required his attention."  
Alec, generally more sensitive to moods than his sister, seemed to hesitate. "Is there something wrong?"  
"I could ask you that." His mother's tone dry. "Are you limping?"  
"I..."  
Alec was a terrible liar. Isabelle picked it up for him smoothly.  
"We had a run in with the Dragondae demon in the subway tunnels. But it was nothing."

"And I suppose the greater demon you fought last week was nothing too?"  
Even Isabelle was silenced by that. She looked to Clary, who wished she hadn't.  
"That wasn't planned for." Clary was having a hard time concentrating. Maryse hadn't greeted her yet, hadn't said so much as a hello, and she was still looking at her with eyes like blue daggers. There was a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach that was beginning to spread. She'd never looked at her like this before, no matter what she'd done. "It was a maitake-"  
"Clary!" Max, the youngest Lightwood, squeezed his way around Maryse and darted into the room, evading his mother reaching hand. "You're back! You're all back." He turned in a circle, grinning at Alec and Isabelle in triumph. "I thought I heard you guys!"  
"And I thought I told you to stay in your room." Said Maryse.  
"I don't remember that." Said Max with a seriousness that made even Alec smile. Max was small for his age- he looked about seven- but he had a self contained gravity that, combined with his over sized glasses, gave him the air of someone older. Alec reached over and ruffled his brothers hair, but Max was still looking at Clary, his eyes shining. Clary felt the cold fist in her stomach relax ever so slightly. Max had alway hero-worshipped her in a way that he didn't worship his own older brother, probably because Clary was far more tolerant of Max's presence. "I heard you fought a Greater Demon." He said. "Was it awesome?"  
"It was... different." Clary hedged. "How was Alicante?"  
"It was awesome. We saw the coolest stuff. There's this huge armory in Alicante and they took me to some of the places where they make weapons. They showed me a new way to make serph blades so they last longer. I'm going to try to get Hodge to show me-"  
Clary couldn't help it; her eyes flickered to Maryse, her expression incredulous. So Max didn't know about Hodge. Hadn't she told him?  
Maryse saw Clary's look and her lips thinned into a knifelike line. "That's enough Max." She took her youngest son by the arm.  
Max craned his head to look up at Maryse in surprise. "But I'm talking to Clary-"  
"I see that." She pushed him gently toward Isabelle. "Isabelle, Alec, take your brother to his room. Clary,"-there was a tightness in her voice when she spoke Clary's name, as if invisible acid were drying up the syllables in her mouth- "Get yourself cleaned up and meet me in the library as soon as you can."  
"I don't get it," said Alec looking from his mother to Clary and back again. "What's going on?"  
Clary could feel a cold sweat start up her spine. "Is this about my father?" Maryse jerked twice, as if the words "my father" had been two separate slaps. "The library," she said through clenched teeth. "We'll discuss the matter there."  
Alec said, "What happened while you were gone wasn't Clary's fault. We were all in on it. And Hodge said-"  
"We'll discuss Hodge later as well." Maryse's eyes were on Max, her tone warning.  
"But Mother." Isabelle protested. "If you're going to punish Clary, you should punish us as well. It would only be fair. We all did exactly the same things."  
"No," said Maryse, after a pause so long that Clary thought perhaps she wasn't going to say anything at all. "You didn't"

"Rule number one of anime," Sidney said. She sat propped up against a pile of pillows at the foot of her bed, a bag of potato chips in one hand and the remote in the other. She was wearing a black shirt that said I BLOGGED YOUR MOM and a pair of jeans with a ripped hole in the knee. "Never crew with a blind monk."  
"I know," Jace said, taking a potato chip and dunking it in the can of dip balanced on the TV tray in between them. "For some reason they are always better fighters than monks who can see." He peered at the screen. "Are those guys dancing?"  
"That's not dancing. They're trying to kill each other. This is the guy who's the mortal enemy of the other guy, remember? He killed his dad. Why would they be dancing?"  
Jace crunched the chip and stared meditatively at the screen, where animated swirls of pink and yellow clouds rippled between the figures of the two winged men, who floated around each other clutching a glowing spear. Every once in awhile one of them would speak but since it was all in japanese with chinese subtitles it didn't clarify much. "The guy with the hat," He said. "He was the evil guy?"  
"No the hat guy was the dad. He was the magical emperor, and that was his hat of power. The evil guy was the one with the mechanical hand that talks."  
The telephone rang. Simon set the bag of chips down and made as if to get up and answer it. Jace put his hand on her wrist. "Don't answer that."  
"But it might be Luke calling from the hospital."  
"It's not Luke," Jace said sounding more sure than he felt. "He'd call me on my cell, not your house."  
"But didn't you throw your phone under a bus?"  
Jace took a breath as if to say something then paused. "Yes. But I got a new one."  
Sidney looked at him a long moment before sinking back down onto the rug beside Jace. "If you say so." Jace could hear the doubt in her voice, but also the unspoken assurance, I just want you to be happy. He wasn't sure "happy" was anything she was likely to be right now, not with his mother in the hospital hooked up to tubes and Luke like a zombie, slumped in the hard plastic chair next to her bed. Not with worrying Clary all the time and picking up the phone a dozen times to call the Institute before setting it back down, the number still undialed. If Clary wanted to talk to him, she would call.  
Maybe it had been a mistake to take her to see Jocelyn. He'd been so sure that if his mother could just hear the voice of her daughter, her firstborn, she'd wake up. But she hadn't. Clary had stood stiff and awkward by the bed, her face like a painted angel's, with blank indifferent eyes. Jace had finally lost his patience and shouted at her and she'd shouted back before storming off. Luke had watched her go with a clinical sort of interest on his exhausted face. "That's the first time I've seen you act like brother and sister."  
Jace had said nothing in response. There was no point telling him how badly he wanted Clary not to be her sister. You couldn't rip out your own DNA, no matter how much you wished you could. No matter how much it would make you happy.  
But even if he couldn't quite manage happy, he thought, at least here in Sidney's house, in this bedroom, he felt comfortable and at home. He'd known her long enough to remember when she had a bed shaped like a fire truck and LEGO's piled in a corner of the room. Now the bed was a futon with a brightly striped quilt that had been a present from her sister, and the walls were plastered with posters of bands like Rock Solid Panda and Stepping Razor. There was a drum set wedged in the corner of the room where the LEGO's had been and a computer in the other corner, the screen frozen on an image from World of Warcraft. It was almost as familiar as being in his own bedroom at home-which no longer existed, so at least this was the next best thing.  
"More chibis." Sidney said gloomily. All of the characters on-screen had turned into inch-high baby versions of themselves and were chasing eachother around with pots and pans. "I'm changing the channel," Sidney said, seizing the remote. "I'm tired of this anime. I can't tell what the plot is and no one ever has sex."  
"Of course they don't." Jace said taking another chip." Anime is wholesome family entertainment."

"If you're in the mood for less wholesome entertainment, we could try porn channels." Sidney observed. "Would you rather watch The Witches of Breastwick or As I Lay Dianne?"  
"Give me that!" Jace grabbed the remote but Sidney, chortling, had already switched the TV to another channel.  
Her laughter broke off abruptly. Jace looked up in surprise and saw her staring blankly at the TV. An old black and white movie wa playing- Dracula. He'd seen it before, with his mother. Bela Lugosi, thin and white faced, was on screen, wrapped in the familiar high collar cloak, his lips curled back from pointed teeth. "I never drink... wine." He said in his thick hungarian accent.  
"I love how the spider webs are made of rubber." Jace said trying to sound light. "You can totally tell."  
But Sidney was already on her feet, dropping the remote onto the bed. "I'll be right back," she muttered. Her face was the color of winter sky just before it rained. Jace watched him go, biting his lip hard- it was the first time since his mother had gone to the hospital that he's realized that maybe Sidney wasn't too happy either.

Toweling off her hair, Clary regarded her reflection in the mirror with a quizzical scowl. A healing rune had taken care if the worst of her bruises but it hadn't helped the shadows under her eyes or the tight lines at the corners of his mouth. Her head ached and she felt slightly dizzy. She knew she should have eaten something in the morning, but she'd woken up nauseated and panting from nightmares, not wanting to pause to eat, just wanting the release of physical activity, to burn out her dreams in bruises and sweat.

Tossing the towel aside, she thought longingly of the sweet black tea Hodge used to brew from the night-blooming flowers in the greenhouse. The tea had taken away hunger pangs and brought a swift surge if energy. Since Hodge's disappearance, Clary had tried boiling plants leaves in water to see if she could produce the same effect, but the only result was a bitter, ashy-tasting liquid that made her gag and spit. Barefoot, she padded into the bedroom and threw on jeans and a clean shirt. She pushed back her long wet hair,it was splitting at the ends. Something that Maryse would be sure to chide her about. She always did. She may not be the Lightwoods biological daughter but they'd treated her like it since the day thu adopted her at age ten, after the death of her own father. They supposed death, Clary reminded herself, that hollow feeling in her guts resurfacing again. She'd felt like a jack-o'-lantern for the past few days, as if her guys had been yanked out with a fork and dumped in a heap while a grinning smile stayed plastered on her face. She often wondered if anything shed believed about her life, or herself, had been true. She'd thought she was an orphan-she wasn't. She'd thought she was an only child- she had a brother.  
Jace. The pain came again, stronger. She pushed it down. Her eyes fell on the bit of broken mirror that lay atop his dresser, still reflecting green boughs and a diamond of blue sky. It was nearly twilight now in Idris:the sky was dark as cobalt. Choking on hollowness, Clary yanked her boots on and headed downstairs to the library. She wondered as she clattered down the stairs just what Maryse wanted to say to her alone. She'd looked at her as if she'd wanted to smack her. Clary couldn't remember the last time that she had laid a hand on her. The Lightwoods weren't given to corporal punishment-quite a change from being brought up by Valentine, who'd concocted all sorts of painful castigations to encourage obedience. Clary's Shadowhunter skin always healed, covering all but the worst of the evidence. In the days and weeks after her father died, Clary could remember searching her body for scars, some mark that would be a token, a remembrance to tie her physically to her father's memory.  
She reached the library and knocked once before pushing the door open. Maryse was there, sitting in Hodge's old chair by the fire. Light streamed down through the high windows and Clary could see the touches of gray on her hair. She was holding a glass of red wine; there was a cut-glass decanter on the table beside her.  
"Maryse." She said.  
Maryse jumped a little, spilling some of the wine. "Clary. I didn't hear you come in."  
Clary didn't move. "Do you remember that song you used to sing to Isabelle and Alec- when they were little and afraid of the dark- to get them to fall asleep?"  
Maryse appeared taken aback. "What are you talking about?"  
"I used to hear you through the walls," she said. "Alec's bedroom was right next to mine."  
Maryse said nothing.  
"It was in french," Clary said. "The song."  
"I don't know why you'd remember something like that." She looked at Clary as if she's accused her of something.  
"You never sang it to me."  
"Oh you were never afraid of the dark." She said.  
"What kind of ten-year-old isn't afraid of the dark?"  
Her eyebrows went up. "Sit down Clare."  
She went, just slowly enough to annoy her, across the room, and threw herself into one of the wing-back chairs beside the desk. "I'd rather you not call me Clare."  
"Why not? It's your name." She looked at Clary consideringly. "How long have you known?"  
"Known what?"  
"Don't be stupid. You know exactly what I'm asking you." She turned her glass in her fingers. "How long have you known that Valentine is your father?"  
Clary considered and discarded several responses. Usually she could get her way with Maryse by making her laugh. She was one of the only people in the world who could make her laugh. "About as long as you have."  
Maryse shook her head slowly. "I don't believe that."  
Clary sat up straight. Her hands were in fists where they rested in the chair arms. She could see a slight tremor in her fingers, wondered if she'd ever had it before. She didn't think so. Her hands had always been as steady as her heartbeat. "You don't believe me?"  
"It doesn't make sense Clary. How could you not know who your own father is?"  
"He told me he was Michael Wayland. We lived in the Wayland house-"  
"A nice touch." Said Maryse. "That and your name? What's your real name?"  
"You know my real name."  
"Clare. I knew Valentine had a daughter named Clare. I knew Michael had a daughter named Clare too. It's a common enough Shadowhunter name-I never thought it was strange they shared it, and as for Michaels girl's full name, I never inquired. But now I can't help but wondering. How long had Valentine been planning what he was going to do? How long did he know he was going to murder Clare Wayland-" She broke off, her eyes fixed on Clary. "You never looked like Michael you know," she said. "But sometimes children don't look like their parents. I didn't think about it before. But now I can see Valentine in you. The way you're looking at me. That defiance. You don't care what I say, do you?"  
But she did care. All she was good at was making sure she couldn't see it. "Would it make a difference if I did?"  
She set the glass down on the table beside her. It was empty. "And you answer questions with questions to throw me off, just like Valentine always did. Maybe I should have known."  
"Maybe nothing. I'm still the exact same person I've been for the past seven years. Nothing's changed about me. If I didn't remind you of Valentine before, I don't see why I would now."  
Her glance moved over Clary and away as if she couldn't bear to look at her. "Surely when we talked about Michael, you must have known we couldn't possibly have meant your father. The things we said about him could never have applied to Valentine."  
"You said he was a good man." Anger twisted inside Clary. "A brave shadowhunter. A loving father. I thought that seemed accurate enough."  
"What about a photograph? You must have seen photographs of Michael Wayland and realized he wasn't the man you called your father." She bit her lip. "Help me out here Clary."  
"All the photographs were destroyed in the Uprising. That's what you told me. Now I wonder if it wasn't because Valentine had them all burned so that no one would know who was in the circle. I never had a photograph of my father," Clary said, and wondered if she sounded as bitter as she felt.  
Maryse put a hand to her temple and massaged it as if her head were aching. "I can't believe this," she said, as if to herself. "it's insane."  
"So don't believe it. Believe me," Clary said, and felt the tremor in his hands increase.  
She dropped her hand. "Don't you think I want to?"she demanded, and for a moment Clary heard the echo in her voice of the Maryse who'd come into her bedroom at night when she was ten years old and staring dry eyed at the ceiling, thinking of her father- and Maryse would sit by the bed with her until she'd fallen asleep just before dawn.  
"I don't know." Clary said again. "And when he asked me to come back to Idris with him, I said no. I'm still here. Doesn't that count for anything?"  
She turned to look back at the decanter, as if considering another drink, then seemed to discard the idea. "I wish I did," she said. "But there are so many reasons your father might want you to remain at the institute. Where Valentine is concerned, I can't afford to trust anyone his influence has touched."  
"His influence touched you." Clary said, and instantly regretted it at the look that flashed across her face.  
"And I repudiated him," said Maryse. "Have you? Could you?" Her blue eyes were the same color as Alec's, but Alec had never looked at Clary like this. "Tell me you hate him, Clary. Tell me you hate that man and everything he stands for."  
A moment passed, and another, and Clary, looking down saw that her hands were so tightly fixed together that the knuckles stood out like the bones in a fish's spine. "I can't say that."  
Maryse sucked in a breath. "Why not?"  
"Why can't you say that you trust me? I've lived with you almost half my life. Surely you must know me better than that?"  
"You sound so honest Clare. You always have, even when you were a little boy trying to pin the blame for something you'd done wrong on Isabelle or Alec. I've only ever met one person who could sound almost as persuasive as you."  
Clary tasted copper in her mouth. "You mean my father."  
"There were only ever two kinds of people in the world for Valentine." She said. "Those who were for the circle and those who were against it. The latter of the enemies, and the former were weapons in his arsenal. I saw him try to turn each of his friends, even his own wife, into a weapon for the cause- and you want me to believe he wouldn't do the same with his own daughter?" She shook her head. "I knew him better than that." For the first time, Maryse looked at Clary with more sadness than anger. "You are an arrow shot by Valentine. Whether you know it or not."

Jace shut the bedroom door on the blaring TV and went to look for Sidney. He found her in the kitchen, bent over the sink with the water running. Her hands were braced on the draining board.  
"Sidney?" The kitchen was a bright, cheerful yellow, the walls decorated with framed chalk and pencil sketches Sidney and Rebecca had done in grade school. Rebecca had some drawing talent, you could tell, but Sidney's sketches of people looked like parking meters with tufts of hair.  
She didn't look up now, though he could tell by the tightening of the shoulder muscles that she's heard him. He went over to the sink, laying a hand on her back. He felt the sharp nubs of her spine through the cotton T-shirt and wondered if she'd lost weight. He couldn't tell by looking at her, but looking at Sidney was like looking at a mirror-when you saw something every day, you didn't always notice small changes in their outwards appearance. "Are you okay?"  
She turned the water off with a hard jerk of her wrist. "Yeah. I'm fine."  
He laid a finger against the side of her chin and turned her face towards him. She was sweating, the dark hair lay across her forehead stuck to her skin, though the air coming through the half open kitchen window was cool. "You don't look fine. Was it the movie?"  
She didn't answer.  
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed, it's just-"  
"You don't remember?" Her voice sounded hoarse.  
"I..." Jace trailed off. That night, looking back, seemed a long haze of running, of blood and sweat, of shadows glimpsed in doorways, of falling through space. He remembered the whitefaces of the vampires, like paper cutouts against the darkness, and remembered Clary holding him, screaming in his ear as they drove off the building. "Not really, it's a blur."  
Her gaze flicked past him and then back. "Do I seem different to you?" She asked.  
He lowered his eyes to hers. Hers were the color of black coffee- not really black, but a rich brown without a touch of gray or hazel. Did she seem different? There might have been an extra touch of confidence in the way she held herself since the day she's killed Abbadon, the Greater demon; but there was also a wariness about her, as if she were waiting or watching for something. It was something he had noticed about Clary as well. Perhaps it was only the awareness of mortality. "You're still Sidney."  
She half closed her eyes as in relief and her eyelashes lowered, he saw how angular her cheekbones looked. She had lost weight, he thought, and was about to say so when she moved up and kissed him.  
He was so surprised at the feel of her mouth on his that he went rigid all over, grabbing for the edge of the draining board to support himself. He did not, however, push her away, and clearly taking this as a sign of encouragement, Sidney slid her hand behind his neck and deepened the kiss, parting his lips with hers. Her mouth was soft, softer than Clary's had been, and the hand that cupped his neck was warm and gentle. She tasted like salt.  
He let his eyes fall shut and for a moment floated dizzily in the darkness and the heat, the feeling of her fingers moving through his hair. When the harsh ring of the telephone cut through his daze, he jumped back as if she'd pushed him away, though she hadn't moved. Theys stared at eachother for a moment, in a wild confusion, like two people finding themselves suddenly transported to a strange landscape where nothing was familiar.  
Sidney turned away first, reaching for the phone that hung on the wall beside the spice rack. "Hello?" She sounded normal, but her chest was rising and falling fast. She held out the receiver to Jace. "It's for you."  
Jace took the phone. He could still feel the pounding of his heart in his throat, like the fluttering of wings of an insect trapped under his skin. It's Luke, calling from the hospital. Something's happened to my mother.  
He swallowed. "Luke? Is it you?"  
"No. It's Isabelle."  
"Isabelle?" Jace looked up and saw Sidney watching him, leaning against the sink. The flush on her cheeks had faded. "Why are you- I mean whats up?"  
There was a hitch in the girls voice, as if she'd been crying. "Is Clary there?"  
Jace actually held out the phone so he could stare at it before bringing the receiver back to his ear. "Clary? No. Why would she be here?"  
Isabelle's answering echoed down the phone line like a gasp. "The thing is... She's gone."

Maia Roberts had never trusted beautiful people, which is why she hated Clary Wayland the first time she ever laid eyes on her.  
Her older brother, Daniel, had been born with her mother's honey-colored skin and huge dark eyes, and he'd turned out to be the sort of person who lit the wings of butterflies on fire to watch them burn and die as the flew. He'd tormented her as well, in small and petty ways at first, pinching her where the bruises wouldn't show, switching the shampoo in her bottle for bleach. She'd gone to her parents but they hadn't believed her. No one had, looking at Daniel; they'd confused beauty with innocence and harmlessness. When he broke her arm in ninth grade, she ran away from home, but her parents brought her back. In tenth grade, Daniel was knocked down in the street by a hit and run driver and killed instantly. Standing next to her parents at the graveside, Maia had been ashamed by her own overwhelming sense of relief. God, she thought, would surely punish her for being glad that her brother was dead.  
The next year, he did. She met Jordan. Long dark hair, slim hips in worn jeans, indie boy rocker shirts and lashes like a girl's. She never thought he'd go for her- his type usually preferred skinny, pale girls in hipster glasses-but he seemed to like her rounded shape. He told her she was beautiful in between kisses. The first few months were like a dream;the last few months like a nightmare. He became possessive, controlling. When he was angry with her, he'd snarl and whip the back of his hand across her cheek, leaving a mark like too much blusher. When she tried to break up with him, he pushed her, knocked her down in her own front yard before she ran inside and slammed the door.  
Later, she let him see her kissing another boy, just to get the point across that it was over. She didn't even remember that boy's name anymore. What she did remember was walking home that night, the rain misting her hair in fine droplets, mud splattering up the legs of her jeans as she took a shortcut through the park near her house. She remembered the dark shape exploding out from behind the metal merry-go-round, the huge wet wolf body knocking her into the mud, the savage pain as it's jaws clamped down on her throat. She'd screamed and thrashed, tasting her own hot blood in her mouth, her brain screaming: This is impossible. Impossible. There weren't wolves in New Jersey, not in her own ordinary suburban neighborhood, not in the twenty first century.  
Her cries brought lights on in the nearby houses, one after another of the windows lighting up like struck matches. The wolf let her go, it's jaw trailing ribbons of blood and torn flesh.  
Twenty four stitched later, she was back in her pink bedroom, her mother hovering anxiously. The emergency room doctor said the bite looked like a large dog's but Maia knew better. Before the wolf had turned to race away, she'd heard a hot, familiar whisper in her ear, "You're mine now. You'll always be mine."  
She never saw Jordan again-he and his parents packed up their apartment and moved, and none of his friends knew where he'd gone, or would admit they did. She was only half-surprised the next full moon when the pains started: tearing pains that ripped up and down her legs, forcing her to the ground, bending her spin in the way a magician might bend a spoon. When her teeth burst out of her gums and rattled to the floor like spilled Chiclets, she fainted. Or thought she did. She woke up miles away from home, naked and covered in blood, the scar on her neck pulsing like a heartbeat. That night she hopped the train to manhattan. It wasn't a hard decision. It was bad enough being biracial in her conservative suburban neighborhood. God knew what they would do to a werewolf.  
It hadn't been hard to find a pack to fall in with. There were several of them in Manhattan alone. She wound up with the downtown pack, the ones who slept in the old police station in Chinatown.  
Pack leaders were mutable. There'd been Kito first, then Veronique, then Gabriel and now Luke. She'd like Gabriel all right but Luke was better. He had a trustworthy look and kind blue eyes and wasn't too handsome, so she didn't dislike him on the spot. She was comfortable enough here with the pack, sleeping in the old police station, playing cards and eating Chinese food on nights when the moon wasn't full, hunting through the park when it was, and the next day drinking off the hangover at the Hunters Moon, one of the city's better underground werewolf bars. There was ale by the yard and nobody carded you to see if you were 21. Being Lycanthrope made you grow up faster and as long as you sprouted hair and fangs once a month, you were good to drink at the moon, no matter how old you were in mundane years.  
These days she hardly thought of her family at all, but when the red haired girl walked in the long black coat stalked her way into the bar, Maia stiffened all over. She didn't look remotely close to Daniel but they had the same way of walking like a panther on the lookout for prey. Her hand tightened convulsively around the stem of her glass and she had to remind herself: He's dead. Daniel's dead.  
A rush of murmurs swept through the bar on the heels of the girls arrival, like the froth of a wave spreading out from the stern of a boat. The girl acted as if she didn't notice anything, hooking a bar stool towards herself with a booted foot and settling onto it with her elbows on the bar. Maia heard her order a shot of single malt in the quiet that followed the murmurs. She downed half the drink with a neat flip of her wrist. When she lifted her hand to set the glass back down on the bar, Maia saw the thick coiling black Marks on her wrists and the backs of her hands.  
Bat, the girl sitting next to Maia- she'd dated her once, after deciding she was done with boys, but they were friends now- muttered something under her breath that sounded like "Nephilim."  
So thats it. The girl wasn't a werewolf at all. She was a shadowhunter, a member of the arcane world's secret police force. They upheld the Law, backed by the covenant, and you couldn't become one of them, you had to be born into it. Blood made them what they were. There were alot of rumors about them, most unflattering: They were haughty, proud, cruel; they looked down on and despised Downworlders. There were few things a lycanthrope like less than a shadowhunter-except maybe a vampire.  
People also said that shadowhunters killed demons. Maia remembered when she's first heard that demons existed and had been told about what they did. It had given her a headache. Vampires and werewolves were just people with a disease, that much she understood, but expecting her to believe in all that heaven and hell crap, demons angels, and still nobody could tell her for sure if there was a god or not, or where you went after you died. It wasn't fair. She believed in demons now-she'd seen enough of what they did that she wasn't able to deny it-but she wished she didn't have to.  
"I take it," the girl said, leaning her elbow onto the bar, "that you don't serve Silver Bullet here. Too many bad associations?" Her eyes gleamed, narrow and shining like the moon at a quarter full.  
The bartender, Freaky Pete, just looked at the girl and shook his head in disgust. If the girl hadn't been a shadowhunter, Maia guessed, Pete would have tossed her out of the moon, but instead he just walked to the other end of the bar and busied himself polishing glasses.  
"Actually," Said Bat, who was unable to stay out of anything, "we don't serve it because it's really crappy beer."  
The girl turned her narrow, shining gaze on Bat, and smiled delightedly. Most people didn't smile delightedly when Bat looked at them funny: Bat was six and a half feet tall with a thick scar covering half her face where silver powder burned her skin. Bat wasn't one of the overnighters, the pack who lived in the police station, sleeping in the old cells. She had her own apartment, even a job. She'd been a pretty good girlfriend, right up until she dumped Maia for some redheaded witch named Eve who live in Yonkers and ran a palmistry shop out of her garage.  
"And what are you drinking?" The girl inquired, leaning so close to Bat that it was like an insult. "A little hair of the dog that bit-well everyone?"  
"You really think you're funny." By this point the rest of the pack was leaning in to hear them, ready to back up Bat if she decided to knock this obnoxious brat into the middle of next week. "Don't you?"  
Bat repeated himself. "Don't you?"  
"Who am I to deny the obvious?" The girl's eyes slid over Maia as if she were invisible and went back to Bat. "I don't suppose you'd like to tell me what happened to your face? It looks like-" And here she leaned forward and said something to Bat so quietly that Maia didn't hear it. The next thing she knew, Bat was swinging a blow at the girl that should have shattered her jaw, only the girl was no longer there. She was standing a good five feet away, laughing, as Bat's fist connected with his abandoned glass and sent it soaring across the bar to strike the wall in a showering of glass.  
Freaky Pete was around the side of the bar, his fist knotted in Bat's shirt. "That's enough," he said. "Bat why don't you take a walk and cool down?"  
Bat twisted in Pete's grip. "Take a walk? Did you hear-"  
"I heard." Pete's voice was low. "He's a shadowhunter. Walk it off cub."  
Bat swore and pulled away from the bartender. She stalked towards the exit, her shoulders stiff with rage. The door banged shut behind her.  
The girl stopped smiling and was looking at Freaky Pete with a sort of dark resentment. "That wasn't necessary." She said. "I can handle myself.  
Pete regarded the Shadowhunter. "It's my bar I'm worried about." He said finally. "You might want to take your business elsewhere, Shadowhunter, if you don't want any trouble."  
"I didn't say I didn't want trouble." The girl sat back down on her stool. "Besides I didn't finish my drink."  
Maia glanced at the alcohol behind her, where the wall of the bar was soaked with alcohol. "Looks like you're finished to me."  
For a second the girl looked blank; then a curious spark of amusement lit in her eyes. Pete slid another glass of liquid across the bar before the girl could reply to her. "Here you go." he said.  
"Pete-" She began. She didn't get to finish. The door to the bar flew open. Bat was standing there in the doorway. It took a moment for Maia to realize that the front of her shirt was soaked with blood.  
She slid off the stool and ran to her. "Bat! Are you hurt?"  
"An attack," she said. "Theres a body in the alley. A dead kid. Blood-everywhere, one of ours. There was someone kneeling over him." Bat said, her voice tight, "Not like a person-like a shadow. They ran off when they saw me." Bat turned and stalked through the room towards the bar. She grabbed the shadowhunter by the back of the jacket- or tried to, but the girl was already a few feet away.  
"What's your problem werewolf?"  
"There's a dead body in the alley, one of ours."  
"He was only a cub," said Pete. "His name was Joseph."  
"A Lycanthrope boy?"  
"He was one of the pack." Said Pete. "He was only fifteen."  
"And what exactly do you want me to do about it?" The girl asked.  
Pete stared incredulously. "You're Nephilim." He said. "The Clave ows us protection."  
The girl looked around the bar, slowly with such a look of insolence that a flush spread over Pete's face.  
"I don't see anything you need protecting from here."  
"There's a dead body outside." Said Bat. "Don't you think-"  
"I think it's a little too late for him to need protection," said the girl, "if he's already dead."  
"So you're going to do nothing? That's it?" Bat said.  
"I'm going to finishing my drink." The girl replied. "If you'll let me."  
"So that's the attitude of the Clave a week after the Accords?" said Pete with disgust. "The death of a downworlder means nothing?"  
The girl smiled. "How like downworlders." She said. "Expecting the Clave to clean up your mess for you. As if we could be bothered just because some stupid cub decided to splatterpaint himself all over your alley-"  
And she used a word, a word for weres that they never used themselves, a filthily unpleasent word that implied a improper relationship between wolves and human women.  
Before anyone els, Bat flung herself at the boy then the whole pack swarmed on him but someone he deflected ever grab, punch, slap, hit that came his way. Everyone was so entranced in the fight noone noticed the door silently open and close.  
"That's enough."  
It was Luke's quiet voice, steady as a heartbeat. 


	2. Chapter 2

Maia was surprised when Luke walked in so calmly. "That's enough. Leave the girl alone." He said.

The pack backed away from the girl, leaving just Bat standing there, one hand tangled in her shirt. "She's not a girl." Bat sneered. "She's a Shadowhunter."

"They're welcome here." Luke said sternly. "They are our allies."

"She said it doesn't matter," Bat spat in her face. "About Joseph-"

"I know," Luke replied quietly. His eyes shifted to the red head girl. "Did you come here to pick a fight Clary Wayland?"

The girl- Clary- smiled, stretching out her split lip so that a thin trickle of blood ran down her chin. "Luke."

Bat was surprised to hear her pack leaders name come out from the other girl's mouth. "I didn't know-"

"There's nothing to know." Said Luke.

Freaky Pete stepped into Luke's line of view. "She said that the Clave wouldn't care," he spoke with a rumble, "about the death of a single Lycanthrope, even a child. And it's a week after the Accord Luke."

"Clary doesn't speak for the Clave, Pete." Said Luke. "And there's nothing she could have done, even if she wanted to."

The girl looked pale after Luke said this. "How did you-"

"I know what happened, with Maryse." Luke said.

She stiffened then walked towards him. "Who told you? Was it Jace?"

"Not Jace." Maia had never heard Luke say that name before but he said it with the tone like this was someone special to him.

"I'm the pack leader, Clary. I hear things. Likes go into the back office and talk." Luke said. He obviously wasn't going to take no as a answer.

Clary glared at the man. "Fine but you owe me for the scotch I didn't drink."

"That was my last guess." Jace said, sitting down on the steps of the old church that they had once been to together.

"It was a good one." Sidney sat down beside him. "I mean she may wanna surprise the Vampires again."

Jace sighed and leaned up against the stair behind him.

"You know she's the type of person to steal weapons from a church." Sidney said looking at Jace seriously.

Jace laughed, nodding. "Yeah she is." His cellphone rang and he dug it out of his coat pocket. Luke. The name flashed on the screen. He flipped it open. "We didn't find him." He said before a hello."

"No but I did."

He sat up straight. "You're kidding me right? We've looked all over town. Is she there? Is she with you? Can I talk to her?" He could see Sidney staring at him. "Is she okay?"

"Mostly."

"Mostly? What do you mean mostly?" Worry laced his voice.

"She picked a fight with some werewolves. She had some cuts and bruises but she's okay."

Jace closed his eyes for a moment. He breathed in and out slowly. She's okay. He told himself over and over.

"I think you should come down here and reason with her. I'm not having much luck."

"Where?" Jace said immediately.

"A bar. The Hunters Moon. It's near the police station."

"I will be there as soon as possible." Jace stood up, flipping the phone shut.

"Do you want me to come?" Sidney asked walking beside Jace.

"What am I just going to leave you here?" He said looking around at the spray painted fences and smashed cars. "I don't think so."

Jace started walking again, Sidney walking as fast as she could trying to keep up with him. "Subway or Cab?"

"What?" Sidney asked not quite listening.

"Which way would be faster? Subway or Cab?" Jace asked annoyed that they had to stop.

"Getting stuck in traffic?" Sidney asked. Then they started walking again. "Why do you even have to go see her anyways. Can't Luke bring her back to the Institute without your help?"

Jace stopped walking, his head went down. "She's my sister. I have to go."

The back office at the Hunters Moon was a dark room with a desk pushed against a wall with a computer and a few chairs. The whole place was smoky and damp making it smell like wet dog.

"She's not in a very good mood." Luke said, leaning against the wall. "I put her in the office right after she nearly killed half my pack with her bare hands. She wouldn't talk to me so I thought of you."

"I can't believe she came here out of all places." Jace said shaking his head.

"Why?" Luke asked curiously.

"Werewolf bar? Doesn't really seem like Clary's kind of place." Jace said looking around.

"Perfect place to pick a fight right? Werewolves have short tempers and are brutal in hand to hand combat. I think Clary was counting on the fact that they would come at her."

"I guess that would make sense but why is she so desperate to try and get herself killed?" Jace said.

"I don't know. Maybe you should talk to her." He said twisting the door knob and pushing the door open. Jace stepped in and Luke shut the door right after.

Clary sat in the chair behind the desk, her head in her hands. As soon as the door clicked shut she seized a pencil and threw it, missing Jace's face by inches.

She looked up. "Oh, it's just you."

Jace felt his heart contract. He hadn't seen Clary in days but she had changed. Her pale skin was now paler and her green eyes were losing their color. Her long red hair looked recently cut shorter and she had a shut just below her left eye.

The door opened again and Luke walked in. "I brought you some visitors."

"Great. That was my last pencil." She huffed. "I enjoyed partying with you guys so much but I gotta run." She said standing up and heading for the door. Luke closed it swiftly.

"No. That's so not happening."

Clary rolled her eyes then walked back over to the desk. "Did you have to bring everyone?" She asked eyeing Sidney.

"Clary-" Luke started.

"I don't want her in here." Clary looked away.

"That's hardly fair." Jace said narrowing his eyes. Had she forgotten that Sidney saved all their lives?

"Mundane," she pointed to the door, "out."

"It's fine I'll wait in the hallway." Sidney said tightly before exiting the room quickly.

"Honestly Clary? Do you have to be so, so..." Jace could fit the words together.

"Unpleasant?" She finished for him. She smirked at him. "Only on days when my adoptive mother doesn't throw me out with the instructions never to come back. Usually I'm incredibly good natured. Next time, try me on days that don't end in y."

Luke frowned. "I still cannot believe she would do that. I mean she isn't my favorite person in the world but still." Luke shook his head with disapproval. "Did she tell you why?"

"She thinks I was lying about thinking I was Michael Waylands daughter. She accused me of being allies with Valentine. She said I helped him get the mortal cup."

"Then why would you still be here?" Jace asked. "Why wouldn't you have left with Valentine?"

"Apparently I'm a spy. One of Valentine's arrows that he's shot right through her perfect heart."

"A spy? For Valentine?" Luke asked.

Clary huffed. "That's what I said." She shook her head.

"Maybe you need to go talk to her again. Explain things properly?" Jace said.

"Nope. I'm not going back there. I swear that woman has some serious trust issues I'm telling you." Clary shook her head.

"Come on Clary go and talk to her like a adult, thats what you claim to be." Jace said and leaned against the wall.

"I don't want to be an adult," she spat. "I want to be an angst-ridden teenager who can't confront her own inner demons and takes it out verbally on other people instead."

Luke snorted. "Well you're doing a fantastic job."

"And Alec? Izzy? What about them Clary. You may not like Maryse but I know you love those two. Go back for them, if not for yourself." Jace looked at Clary.

Clary shook her head. "There better off without me."

"Clary they need you. Both of them. There lost without you. You may not know it but they love you as much as you love them." Luke sat down in a chair beside Clary's.

She stood up. "I can't go back." She walked over to a wall. "You don't get it. Maryse wants me to say I hate Valentine. It's the only way she'll believe me but I- I can't do that." She closed her eyes for a moment. She lifted her fist and punched the wall in frustration. She drew her, bloody hand away from the wall.

"Clary I understand." Luke stood up. "I love him too once. So did Maryse. She shouldn't need that as proof."

This is why she came here, Jace thought, not to pick a fight but to get Luke. Luke knows what she's going through.

"Did she say you could never come back?" Jace asked. "Or is that just what you thought."

"She said it's probably better for you to find somewhere else to stay for awhile. She never said where." Clary turned away from Jace.

"Look Clary, you are welcome to stay with me if you need. I want you to know that." He stood up and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Clary smiled lightly. "Thanks." She replied.

Jace's stomach churned. Him and Clary, under the same roof?  
"But I still think you should go talk to Maryse." Luke added on.

Clary breathed deeply. "Fine, but I'm not going alone." She turned to look at him.

Jace spoke up quickly. "I'll go with you."

"And I want you to come." She replied. "But I want Luke to come too."

"I don't know if Maryse would like me in-" Luke started slowly.

"Please." Clary asked.

"All right. I'll go with you." Luke nodded.

Sidney leaned against the wall thinking to herself. Until she heard a voice coming from beside her.

"Hey there. You waiting for Luke?" The girl speaking had mocha skin and deep brown eyes. Her brown-gold hair was braided in dozens of small braids all over her head. She had a compact, curvey body, wide hips flaring out the sides.

"No, he's in there with a friend of mine." Sidney replied, looking away.

"The Shadowhunter from the bar?" She asked and Sidney shrugged. "No offence but your friend is a real bitch."

"I couldn't agree more." Sidney replied. "Actually I'm not waiting for her. I'm waiting for her brother, he's in there too."

The girl raised her eyebrows. "Well I guess having a bitchy sister isn't his fault."

"It's not," Sidney said looking away. "But he's the only person that she'll listen to."

"She didn't strike me as the listening type."

"She isn't but maybe she'll listen to him. I don't know how they work." SHe shook her head.

The girl nodded. "I'm Maia by the way." She held her hand out.

"Sidney. If I may ask, how did you know that Clary was a asshole?"

"She tore up the bar, hit my friend Bat and knocked out a few of the pack members." She took her hand back.

Sidney's eyes widened. "Are they alright? Did they see a doctor?"

"A warlock. Our kind doesn't have much to do with doctors." She pursed her lips.

"Downworlders?"

"Someone taught you the lingo." The girl eyed Sidney.

Sidney was distraught. "How did you know I wasn't one of you. A downworlder I mean."

She smiled. "It shines through you. Your humanity."

"I could knock on the door if you need," Sidney offered, "If you want to talk to Luke."

She shrugged. "Just tell him that Magnus Bane is in the alley. He's the high warlock of britain"

I know, she thought. "Okay."

Maia turned to go down the hallway but then stopped and turned back around to face Sidney. "You think he'll be able to talk some sense into her?" She asked. "Her brother?"

"If she would listen to anyone it would be him."

"That's sweet, that he loves his sister like that."

"Yeah," Sidney said. "it's precious." 


	3. Chapter 3

The first time Jace had walked up the steps of the Institute, he had thought it was a old, run down church. A church that should have been demolished years ago but wasn't. It was not until he had peeled away the glamor that he had actually seen what it actually was; a large beautiful building with two wide double doors and two pain struck angels sitting on the front ledges. Once again as Jace walked up to the building he had seen a church until he forced his eyes to peel away the mist to reveal the actual beauty.

Clary's hair blew behind her as she quickly moved up the cold, stone steps to the front doors. She took in a deep breath as she reached towards the front handle and pulled. The door didn't move. She tried pulling once more.

"Shit." She muttered trying to pull the doors open once again.

"Clary what's the problem?" Asked a hesitant Luke. He still wasn't one hundred percent sure that this was a good idea, him tagging along.

"I forgot that when Maryse kicked me out, she took my key." She kicked the door. "Dammit."

"So were locked out then?" Jace asked. "What about what you did at the church? With the stele." Jace waited for an answer but she crossed her arms and turned away. "You didn't bring your stele with you, did you?"

"I didn't bring anything with me when I left." She said. "I didn't want to take anything the Lightwoods gave me. Plus I don't need a stele to do this anyways." She placed her hand on the door and faced up the the sky. "I ask entry into this sacred place by the name of Raziel."

The doors swung open and the three of them walked into the front room. They made their way through the room to the long corridor that led to the main floor. None of them said anything walking down the stretch of hallway. They reached the library, there were voices coming from inside but Clary pushed the doors open, not caring at all.

Jace heard a surprised voice. He shivered a bit thinking of the only person that lived in the Library. Hodge. But it wasn't Hodge. A middle-aged women sat behind the desk. The middle aged women looked almost exactly like Isabelle but with a few of Alec's features and she was quite a bit older.

Beside her stood a lean, black haired boy that was too familiar to Jace. His dark eyes flickered over to the group at their loud entrance. "Raphael?" Jace couldn't hold it back.

Raphael nodded before his eyes flicked to Clary. "What happened to you? It looks as if a pack of werewolves tried to rip you apart."

Clary nodded. "Very good assumption. Or do you know what happened?"

Raphael smirked. "I hear things."

The middle-aged women stood up and turned to Jace. "Who are you?" She demanded.

"Clary's brother." Jace said hesitantly.

Maryse looked at him intently. "I can see that. You look almost exactly like Valentine."

A few seconds later her eyes landed on the tall man standing beside Jace. "Lucian?" She asked.

"It's been a long time," the man replied, "Maryse."

Her face paled and she breathed in slowly. "Lucian, Lucian Graymark."

Raphael slowly turned sideways to look at the man.

"We all thought you were dead." Maryse shook her head.

"Hoped, hoped I was dead." Luke added.

Maryse swallowed, what looked like, a big lump in her throat. "Well you might as well sit down. And while you're here tell me why that is."

"Clary wants a trial before the Clave. I'm willing to vouch for her. I was there at Renwick's when Valentine revealed himself. We fought and nearly killed each other. I can confirm everything that Clary said is true."

"I'm not sure." Maryse looked away. "What is your word worth?"

"I may be lycanthrope but I'm also Shadowhunter. I'm willing to be tried by the sword if need be." He stated. Jace looked at Luke funnily. The Sword. That didn't sound good.

Luke caught Jace's look. "The Soul-Sword. The second mortal instrument. It's used in trials to determine if a Shadowhunter is lying."

"You're not a shadowhunter. You haven't lived by the law of the Clave in a long, long time."

"And there was a time when you didn't live by it either." Luke said looking directly into Maryse's eyes. "I would have thought that by now you would have gotten past not being able to trust anyone."

Maryse shook her head. "Some things you never forget. Remember the night he told us that the Uprising would be nothing? Hardly a battle? A few downworlders. I left Alec at home. I asked Jocelyn to watch him while I was away. She refused. I know why now. She knew-and so did you. And you didn't warn us."

"I'd warned you about Valentine. I told you. You just never listened."

"I don't mean Valentine. I mean about the slaughter we were walking into. Us against five hundred downworlders. There was only supposed to be five of them. I was in the midst of the carnage, turning to Valentine for help when I noticed that he had fled. I thought he had died. I was ready to die then I remember the son I had at home. What would happen to my baby if I died. So I layed down my arms and gave myself up to the Clave." She had closed her eyes, her fists had clenched.

"You did the right thin-"

"Don't patronize me, werewolf. If it weren't for you-"

"Don't yell at him!" Jace cut in. "It's your fault for being with Valentine in the first place!"

Maryse turned her gaze to Jace. "Don't you think I know that? The made that very clear when they questioned us. They had the soul sword and knew when we were lying, but they couldn't make us talk. Nothing could make us talk. Until they-"

"Until they what?" Luke asked. "I've always wondered what they told you to make you turn on him."

"The truth. That Valentine left is there to die without him. We were told he died later. The Inquisitor showed us the charred bones of his family. But that was just another lie... He lied not just to the Clave but to us as well. He used our loyalty and affection. Just as he did when he sent you to us." Her gaze went from Luke to Clary in that split second.

"Then what?" Luke asked. "Where is she supposed to go?"

Her eyes moved to Jace. "She has a brother. A family-"

"Alec and Max are Clary's brother's." Jace interrupted. "Isabelle is her sister. What are you going to tell them? They'll be heartbroken and hate you forever."

"What do you know about it?" Maryse glared.

"I know Alec and Isabelle. Family is more than blood. Valentine isn't my father. Luke is. Just like Alec, Isabelle and Max are Clary's family." Jace replied.

"Jace." Clary said. "Enough."

"What about the soul-sword? It makes any shadow hunter tell the truth. Just use that." Jace said, refusing to give up.

Clary's face lit up with hope. "Yes! Just use the sword on me, I am willing to do it."

"No, only one person can use it." Luke said, looking around the room.

"Who?" Jace asked.

"The Inquisitor. Call her, I want to be tested. I need you to know." Clary said looking directly at Maryse.

"No, the Inquisitor is a cold, heartless women."

"I've already called her." Maryse and Luke said at the same time.

"And you thought that it would be best if Clary weren't here when she arrived." Jace said, pursing his lips.

"I'm not leaving." Clary said. "If she comes and I'm not here, she'll punish you- you, Alec, Isabelle and Max."

Maryse took a hard breath then turned to Clary. "It's your decision. If you want to stay here for your trial then no one's stopping you."

"I'll stay."

"Milk, molasses and eggs- way past their expiration date. And something that looks kinda like lettuce."

"That's not lettuce," Jace said, peering past Sidney, into the fridge, "that's cheese."

"Ew." She said, closing the door with her foot. "Order pizza?"

"Already did." Luke said walking into the kitchen. "One large vegetarian three large coke's, also I called the hospital."

Jace sat down and looked up at Luke.

"There's been no change."

Jace sighed and placed his head on the table. Sidney sat down at the table and placed a hand on his back. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I mean I didn't expect my mom to wake up today but it's like she's just waiting for someone or for something. I don't know." Jace shook his head.

"So it sounds like the meeting at the Institute was pretty intense." Sidney said leaning back into her chair.

"Yeah, Isabelle and Alec's mom is scary." Jace shuttered.

"What's her name again?"

"May-ris." He said, following Luke pronunciation.

"So Clary decided to stay and deal with um the person thingy." Sidney said, not remembering the word.

Jace lifted his head off the table. "The Inquisitor, yeah. If she leaves she can never go back. Being a shadowhunter is Clary's life. Without it I swear she would be running around the city almost killing herself anyways so at least this way she's trained to do it."

The doorbell rung and Luke pulled himself away from the wall. "I'll be right back."

After he left Sidney turned back to Jace. "Thinking of Luke as a shadowhunter is weirder than thinking about him as a werewolf."

"Why?"

"Because being a werewolf is kind of like a life style-"

"A life style were once a month you grow fur and sprout large teeth." Jace noted.

"But being a Shadowhunter is like, it's like being in a cult." Sidney finished.

"Being a Shadowhunter is not like being in a cult." Jace replied sternly.

"Think about it. I mean really think. They think that they're better than everyone else, they go by a set of rules and if broken they are killed, it's exclusive like really exclusive, they don't hang out with anyone but other Shadowhunters. It has cult written all over it."

Jace shook his head.

"I met another werewolf today." Sidney said, giving up on that converse topic.

"Please tell me you weren't hanging out at that werewolf bar with Freaky Pete." Jace said sighing.

"Nah, it was a girl. About our age." Sidney said, pulling on a hole in her jeans. "Her name is Maia."

Luke walked back into the kitchen, placing a red cardboard box on the table. "Maia?" Sidney opened the box and pulled out two pieces of pizza.

"Maia's one of the pack right?" Jace asked, taking a slice for himself.

"Yeah she's a good kid. She watches the bookstore for me and let's me pay her in books." Luke said, sitting down and grabbing a slice for himself.

Sidney looked at Luke from over her third slice of pizza. "Are you low on money?"

Luke shook his head. "Money has never been a worry for me."

"Whenever my mom was low on money she would just sell one of my dad's medals but I guess she couldn't sell his medals if he never got any." Jace said, partially to himself.

"She would just sell off his family jewelry and artifacts bit by bit." Luke replied.

"I hope it gave her pleasure." Sidney said shaking her head. "Selling off his stuff like that."

Luke shrugged.

"You know I think that Jocelyn should have just married you. She would have been better off." Sidney glanced at Luke.

"I do too. I appreciate it Sid." Luke said smiling. He looked down at the pizza. "Although you did eat all the pizza."

She shrugged. "I only had five pieces."

Luke looked at her confused.

"Three is a snack, five is a meal." She grinned. "Does this mean you're going to wolf out and eat me?"

"Nah, you would be stringy and hard to digest and you probably wouldn't taste all that good either." Luke said, smiling.

Sidney let in a gasp. "I am offended."

Jace suddenly cut into the conversation. "Luke what happened to your marks?"

Luke looked down at his arms, as if remembering something that used to be there, slightly etched into the skin. The thin white marks that he knew were there at one point. "They faded over time."

Jace nodded. "I-I've been thinking about getting marks myself."

Sidney's head snapped over. "What?"

Jace nodded.

Luke stood up from his chair. "I'll be right back."

They waited there in silence before Luke returned, a small box in his hands. He handed it to Jace. His curiosity took over and he pulled open the box to reveal a thin, metal looking stele.

He looked up at Luke.

"It was your mothers. She asked me to keep it here, in case you ever ran into it at home." Luke replied leaning against the wall.

"It's amazing." He said, picking it up and holding it in his hands, the metal cool against his fingers.

"It's yours." Luke said.

Jace's head snapped up to look at him.

"Every Shadowhunter needs one."

"I don't know what to say." Jace said putting it back in his box.

"Although I wouldn't get any runes until you're trained of course." Luke said pulling a chair out and sitting back down.

"But Jace, you're not a Shadowhunter." Sidney said grasping his arm.

"Aren't I? My mother was abducted by a Shadowhunter, I searched for her with Shadowhunters, I found the Cup with the Shadowhunters. I fought along side them. How am I not a Shadowhunter." He argued.

Sidney just shook her head.

"So I can have it?" Jace asked Luke.

"Yeah, it's about twenty years out of date but it still works."

"This reminds me of when my grandmother tried to give me her old knitting set." Sidney said.

"You? Knitting? Yeah right." Jace laughed.

"That's what I said!" 


	4. Chapter 4

Smoke rose from the burning tip of the stele burning the black spirals onto his skin, she smelt the stench of her own skin burning against the tip of the stele. Her father stood over her concentrating on the rune he was drawing, the tip of the long metallic thin stick glowing red like a poker left too long in the fire.  
"Close your eyes Clarissa." He said forcefully. "Pain is only what you allow it to be."  
Clary's hands closed in on themselves, Clary's nails bit into the skin of her palm as she attempted to forget about the pain. She felt the blood flow down her hand as somehow her nails, kept short, cut into her.

Clary opened her eyes breathing heavily. She blinked away the darkness. She felt a sharp pain go through her and and looked down to see crescent shapes fill her palms. There was blood leaked down, over her hand and covering her forearm. She sat up, trying her hardest to not put any pressure on her wounds.

She rolled off the side of the bed, her feet hitting the cold hardwood floor and she looked down at herself. She was still wearing her pants from before, falling asleep in her clothes, but she must have pulled her shirt off during her agonizing dream because she stood in front of her bed bearing simply a white sports bra and black jeans.

There was a knock at the door and Clary cautiously walked across the room and threw the door open. "Alec?"

Alec, standing awkwardly there, hands in his pockets, looked down at Clary's bare stomach then back up again. "Sorry if I uh woke you but uh Mom wants to see you in the uh library."

Clary had to hold herself back from laughing. "Alec, you've seen me without a shirt on before, you'd think you'd finally not be so awkward about it."

Alec rubbed the back of his neck self consciously.

Clary rolled her eyes. "Just let me put a shirt on quickly then we can go." She walked back into her room, searching around her bed for the shirt.

"We?" Alec replied confused.

Clary looked back at him, "You don't expect me to walk alone do you?"

"No, of course not." He replied.

"Well," Clary said pulling her shirt over her head, "We'd better get going then."

"So I went to your room earlier today," Clary said once they had started walking. "You weren't there."

""Yeah, I went for a walk. Tried to clear my head." Alec said.

"And ran into a Vampire?" Clary asked.

"What?"

Clary pointed to the mark on his neck.

"No," Alec's hand flew to his neck. "I didn't run into a vampire, I uh fell."

Clary raised her eyebrows. "You fell, on your neck?"

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. What did you need to clear your head about anyways?" She asked as they passed the kitchen. They heard humming, Izzy. They both looked at each other and began sprinting down the hallway.

They stopped when decided they were a safe enough distance down the hall.

"You, my Parents." Alec replied between breaths. "My mom told me about Hodge by the way. Thanks for not telling me that."

Clary winced. "I couldn't bring myself to do it."

"Well it doesn't look good. It looks like you were hiding things about your dad."

Clary narrowed her eyes. "Do you think I was lying?"

"NO!" Alec exclaimed. "And I don't care who your father is. It doesn't matter to me. You're still the same Clary."

"Whoever that is." Clary spat before she could stop the words from coming out.

"All I'm saying, Clary, is that you need to think before you speak. You can be a little harsh sometimes."

Clary glared at Alec. "Thanks for the advice. I think I can walk myself the rest of the way to the library."

"Clary." Alec groaned. But she was already gone, turning the corner of the hallway.

The library door was barely open but Clary walked right in, not bothering to knock. She walked in and looked at Hodges dest were a thin grey women had just stood up. The women, older than most female shadow hunters, wore a long grey fitted coat over her grey pin striped suit. Her pointed black boots peeking out from underneath her long pants. Her blonde hair streaked with grey was pulled back into a tight bun at the top of her head and her grey, lifeless eyes looked straight through Clary. From her mud splattered jeans to her uncombed hair.

"You're the girl?" The women said, narrowing her eyes at Clary. Before Clary could reply another female voice spoke up, sitting on the couch beside the fire Maryse stood up. "Yes, Inquisitor," she said, "this is Clarissa Morgenstern."

The Inquisitor walked towards Clary, the sound of her heels clicking on the brown stained hardwood floor. She stopped in front of Clary and peered down at her. "Look at me little girl." Clary didn't move. The older woman placed her long fingers underneath her chin and jerked her face up so she had no choice but to look at the infuriated face. "You will call me Inquisitor. Nothing else." The skin around her lips was taught as she pursed her lips. Two narrow grooves ran from the edges of her mouth to her chin. "Do you understand?"

Clary was silent for a long few second before she replied. "My name is Clary. Not little girl, not Clarissa, Clary Wayland."

"You have no right to the name of Wayland." She said. "You are Clarissa Morgenstern. To claim the name Wayland makes you a liar. Just like your father."

Clary crossed her arms. "Actually, I like to think of myself as a liar in my own unique way."

"I see." The Inquisitor pursed her lips once again. "You are intolerant of authority just like your father. You walk the way your father does, talk the same way, move the same way. So tell me just how unique you truly are."

Clary glared at the older woman. "You don't know me, Inquisitor." She spat the name like it burned her tongue. "You may have known Valentine but you don't know me."

"You're right, I don't know you. But if someone is adopted who's traits do you think they take after? The blood parents or the adoptive parents?" She asked, arms crossed in front of her.

"Adopti-"

"Wrong. It's the DNA in our blood that makes our personality. So no matter how much to try to deny it you are exactly like Valentine." She smirked at Clary.

"Imogen-" Maryse began but corrected herself. "Inquisitor Herondale. She's agreed to a trial by the sword. You can find out whether she's telling the truth or not."

"About her father? Yes I know I can." Imogen's collar dug into her throat as she turned to face Maryse. "You know Maryse, the Clave aren't pleased with you. You and your husband allowed the Daughter of every single shadowhunters enemy to infiltrate one of our most sacred places. We all actually wonder if you are allianced with Valentine. As it is, he set a trap and you fell right into it. One might think you'd of known better."

"There was no trap." Clary cut in. "My father knew the Lightwoods would let me in if they thought I was Michael Wayland's daughter."

The Inquisitor turned back around to face Clary. "Do you know about the cuckoo bird, Clarissa Morgenstern?"

"The what?"

"The cuckoo bird." She replied. "You see, cuckoo birds are parasites. They lay their eggs in other birds nests. When the egg hatches the baby cuckoo bird pushes all the other little birds out of the nest and the poor parent birds work themselves to death trying to find enough food to feed the enormous cuckoo bird who has murdered their babies and taken their place."

"Enormous?" Clary replied. "Did you just call me fat."

The Inquisitor sighed, she rubbed her fingers on the bridge of her nose. "It was an analogy."

"I am not fat."

"And I," Maryse jumped in, "don't want your pity Imogen. I refuse to believe the Clave will punish my husband or I for choosing to bring up the daughter of a dead friend." Maryse squared her shoulders. "It isn't as if we didn't tell them what we were doing."

"I have never ever harmed any of the Lightwood in any way shape or form." Said Clary. "I have worked hard, trained hard, and say whatever you want about my father but he made a damn good shadow hunter out of me. I've earned my place here."

"Don't defend your father to me. I knew him, he was- is- the vilest man that walks this earth."

"Vile?" Clary replied. "Who uses the word vile? I don't even know what that means."

"You are arrogant." She spat at Clary. " As well as intolerant. Did your father teach you to behave in such a manner?"

"Not to him." Clary replied quickly and quietly.

"Then you're mirroring him. Valentine was one of the most arrogant, disrespectful men I have ever met. I suppose he brought you up to be just like him."

"Yes," Clary said, unable to stop herself. "I was trained at a young age to be an evil mastermind. To pull the wings off of butterflies, poisoning the earths water supply- I was covering that stuff in kindergarten. Good thing my father faked his death before we got to the raping and murdering part of my education, or no one would be safe."

Maryse groaned and smacked her forehead with her palm. "Jace-"

But the Inquisitor cut her off. "And just like your father, you cannot control your temper. The Lightwoods have coddled you too much and let your worst qualities run rampant, but I know exactly who you are. You may look like an angel Clarissa, but I know better."

"She's just a child, Imogen." Maryse cut in.

"At one point Valentine was just child. Now before we do any digging in the red head of yours you best go cool off and I know exactly where you can think about what you've done." She suppressed the smile spreading on her face.

Clary blinked. "You're sending me to my room?"

"No, I am sending you to the prison of silent city."

Maryse gasped. "Imogen you can't!"

"But I can and I will." Her eyes cut through Clary like a razor. "Do you have anything to say to me Clarissa?"

Clary could only stare. There were levels and levels to the silent city. Clary had only seen the first two. The prison cells were the very last level. The cells were reserved for worst criminals, vampires gone rogue, warlocks who broke the Covenant Law, Shadowhunters who spilled one anothers blood. Clary was none of those things. How could she even suggest sending her there.

"Very wise decision Mrs. Morgenstern. I see you're already learning the best lesson of the silent city." The Inquisitor grinned. "How to keep your mouth shut."  
_

Jace was in the middle of helping Luke clean up dinner, Jace was placing plates in the dishwasher when there was a knock on the door. Jace straightened, "Expecting someone?"

Luke looked at Jace. "No." He grabbed something off the shelf that gleamed. "Stay here, I'll be right back.

After he left the kitchen Sidney walked over to Jace. "Did you see him pull that knife? Is he expecting trouble?"

"I think he's always expecting trouble," Jace said, "these days." Jace opened up the kitchen door and peered into the foyer. He could hear Luke's voice, he didn't sound upset.

Sidney pulled his arm back. "Jace stay away from the door, for all you know it could be a demon thingy."

"Then Luke will need our help." Jace looked at her hand on his arm. "Now you're all protective? How cute."

"Jace!" Luke called her from the front room, cutting Sidney off before she had a chance to reply to Jace's snide comment. "Come here, I want you to meet someone."

"Be right back." Jace grinned at Sidney.

Luke was leaning against the door frame, twirling the knife around in his hands. A girl stood on the front steps, a girl with curling brown hair in multiple braids and a tan jacket. "This is Maia," Luke said. "Who I was telling you about."

The girl looked at Jace, her eyes amber green under the porch light, "You must be Jace."

Jace nodded.

"So that chick- the red head girl that tore up the hunters moon- she's your sister?"

"Clary." Jace nodded.

"Maia?" Sidney said? Coming to stand in front of Jace so she could see, hand thrust in her pockets.

"Yeah, you're Sidney right? I'm horrible with names but I remember you." The girl smiled at her.

"Great." Jace said. "Now we're all best friends."

Luke coughed and stood up straight. "So Jace, Maia will be looking after the bookshop for the next few week so if you see her walking in there, it's fine, she has a key."

"I'll keep an eye out for anything weird." Maia smiled. "Demons, vampires, whatever."

"Thanks." Jace said. "I feel exceptionally safe now."

"Are you being sarcastic?" Maia asked, raising her eyebrows.

"We're all a little tense," Sidney said. "I for one and glad that someone will be here to watch over my boyfriend while no one else is here."

Luke raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything.

Jace sighed. "Yeah, Sid's right. Sorry I snapped at you."

"It's alright." Maia said. "I heard about your mom. I'm sorry."

"Me too," Jace said, turning around and going back into the kitchen. He automatically sat down and smacked his head on the table.

Luke walked in. "Sorry, I guess you weren't up to meeting anyone right now."

"Where's Sidney?"

"Talking to Maia. I just thought it might be good for you to have a friend right now."

"I have Sidney." Jace replied.

"Was it just me or did I hear her call you her boyfriend? Did I miss something?" Luke asked sitting down at the table.

Jace almost laughed at his expression. "That's the first time I've heard it myself." Jace rubbed at his eyes. "Someone's boyfriend, someone's brother, someone's son. All these things I didn't know I was. I still don't know who I am."

"Isn't that always the question?" Luke asked sighing heavily.

There were footsteps and soon enough Sidney was coming through the kitchen door. "Hey Luke, is it cool if I crash here tonight? It's pretty late to get home."

"You're always welcome here Sidney." Luke yawned. "But I need to getting to bed because I need to be getting up tomorrow at six."

"Why six?" Sidney asked after Luke left the kitchen.

"That's when visiting hours start." Jace said. "You don't have to sleep on the couch if you don't want."

"No, it's cool. I don't really want to leave you here alone." Sidney said, smiling lazily at Jace.

"No I mean, you don't have to sleep on the couch." Jace replied.

"You sure?" She asked grinning now.

Jace nodded. Sidney walked over and kissed him on the lips. Still smiling.

Jace got to his feet. "Enough with the kitchens," he said," no more kitchens." And taking her firmly by the wrists, he pulled her after him, out of the kitchen and towards the guest room where she slept. 


End file.
